


Ash Origins

by Nyalex (crowpsychology)



Series: Botanophilia [1]
Category: OCs - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, just a little, this is ash's origin what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 18:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowpsychology/pseuds/Nyalex
Summary: Maybe he was supposed to open the package. Maybe he wasn't. It didn't matter, because the events would transpire either way. And he almost knew that.
Series: Botanophilia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211414





	Ash Origins

It was an accident that he opened the package that arrived late that night. Maybe it was intended for his father, one of his brothers, but it didn’t have a name and he figured he might as well be the one to do it. He didn’t want any of this to happen, but the events were already in progress.

As soon as he opened the still package, a flurry of motion erupted inside. For a moment, he wondered why a plant was secured in a package before he realized what was happening, though still not understanding how or why. He tried to throw the seemingly sentient plant and its package out of the door, but it was too late. It curled around his arm with grapevines and secured itself with rose thorns, almost as if it were jaws of a beast.

He didn’t know whatever this was, but he still did know what he was doing when it came to roses. He grabbed from close to the base and tugged the vine from his skin, but it didn’t help when it attached to his hand and crawled towards his throat and back, effectively ensnaring him in place by the door while almost depriving him of oxygen.

It hurt more than he could possibly imagine. He felt the burn of poison oak and stabbing of embedded knives ripping open his skin, and almost wished he didn’t live through the ordeal so he would never feel this sensation again.

His family finally rushed down the stairs to the scene, horrified at what befell them. None of them had any idea what was happening either, and were frozen at the sight as he begged for them to save him. He knew there was nothing they could do, but that knowledge didn’t help in the moment.

The pain slowly died down, but so did his consciousness as he fell into a deep sleep. When he finally awoke late in the morning, he was surprised to find that he didn’t feel any pain. But before he could think it was a dream, he noticed the fresh scars on his hands that ascended to his arms, and, looking in the mirror, his neck and lower face.

Something felt different about him, deeper than the flesh-deep wounds, but he couldn’t quite place where or what was wrong. Not knowing what else to do, he walked downstairs to greet his family.


End file.
